Writing prompt: Describe a wedding from three different points of view.
I saw him standing at the alter, my husband-to-be in a dapper fitted black tux that contrasted the deep ocean blue of his eyes. Never before had I imagined that he could be any more perfect, but perhaps because this was our wedding day, his inner and outer beauty radiated through him. With my heart beating wildly in my chest at the mere thought that we were about to pledge ourselves to each other for life, I lowered my gaze to the bouquet of white peonies clasped in my hand. Steady, steady. I draw in a deep breath and return my gaze to him. He’s looking at me with dewy eyes, his stare boring into me as if looking deep into my soul and beyond me. He sees me for more than the surface of who I am.
I have never been more ready to begin the rest of my life as this man’s wife than I am right now.
From my aisle seat in the first row, I’ve trained my vision directly onto my son. As a strapping, tall, handsome young man (who looks just like I did at the same age), I can’t seem to figure out why he would marry his childhood sweetheart. Seems like the easy way out of finding someone who could be more suitable for himself… Someone who wants to be a stay at home mother and cook and clean for him, not manage her own business as if she felt she was a man. He knows I left his mother because she wanted something “more” than what she had. Ha! Women are so ungrateful.
As she walks down the aisle toward him, I can practically hear each individual footfall echo with: div-orce, div-orce, div-orce.
As my wife-to-be floats down the aisle toward our future with swan-like grace, I wonder how long it will be before she finds out that it’s her best friend — the very one walking directly behind her — that I wish was pledging a lifetime of devotion to me. The one I spent tangled with in sheets as milky white as my fiancée’s dress, who cried out my name while nails dug into my back. A three day business trip. Working late. Going out with the guys. Anything to spend time away from the real world and immersed in my bedroom utopia.
Behind my bride walks the love of my life, avoiding eye contact with me like the plague. Still, I cannot help but envision the nights I spent staring into that currently averted gaze, the guilt emanating across the space between us so thick now that it feels nearly tangible. But how could we deny ourselves of the love that we so obviously shared? As my fiancée nears me, her face glowing with anticipation, I reflect her own euphoria as I look just beyond her at her gorgeous man-of-honour.